


Radiating

by Exro



Category: Hmofa
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:18:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exro/pseuds/Exro





	1. Prologue

Magic was always here, always around us, but us humans, we couldn’t tell. We tried to explain it as Gods, miracles, ghosts, phantasms, and even science. But it remained, that sixth element, that no human could understand. We were so close to seeing it, so frustratingly close to unlocking the secrets of the universe, before we ended ourselves. Not by pollution, but by way of humanity hitting the carrying capacity of earth. There was no room to expand, no more horizons to push. So we went up. At first it was just a few airship carriers, held aloft by massive nuclear engines. Then houses. And neighborhoods, and the communities that followed. Then towns, and cities went up, and humanity followed. Eventually every major city in America had risen above the clouds. Then we discovered it.

Magic. It began in the most dead and deserted of places. The Navada desert, were the U.S Government tested their weapons of destruction.  Chernobyl. Fukushima. All polluted with ‘radiation’. We didn’t understand it, why anomalies cropped up in those places so often, attributing it to the dangerous energy. But where there was death, blossomed life. And with Cities floating above the clouds, dumping death upon the ground, old earth was reclaimed, from the ruin and abandonment, and once again it flourished in its colors, regal green and solemn blue. The people who stayed below, the Underdwellers, they called them, they changed. Some for the better, some for the worse.

They became monsters, beastmen and women, animalistic in body but of sound mind.

Of fur and of fang, of scale and of claw, they morphed into the nightmares mothers told their children to hush them at night. It was terrifying, at first, to see your sibling become a being that appeared to be a wolf, but spoke like a human. But we preserved. Miracles became common place, to the point that they became normal life. Walking on water was no long Jesus’s trademark, and breathing fire to heat your leftovers was a a basic household occurrence. Humans mutated in other ways as well. Iron skin, regenerating lost limbs like starfish, eyes sharper than a falcon’s, and arms that could bend steel like silly putty, humanity became improved, but their society fell.

No more, did they rely on the technology that had caused their change, they used their magic. Those with the most powerful magic rose to power, warlords conquering entire countries for their own kingdoms. Gone were the countries of old, and in their place rose city states, ruled by royal families. Humanity had turned back the clock.

Some had sworn revenge on those who had left them down below to suffer with in the squalor and depravity left behind by humanity’s avarice for consumerism, but as the clock was turned back, and the centuries passed, that sentiment, and those living above, were forgotten, just like those above had forgotten those living below.

 

\--

The only thing you knew was that your chest hurt. It ached, and not in a good way. The acrid stench of smoke and burnt flesh met your nose, and you gag, almost vomiting up anything that had been left in your stomach. Your eyes creak open, painfully, and take in the sight around you. Flames, all around you. You’d panic, like your instincts were telling you to but you’re too tired. You hear a ringing in your ear, faint, but annoying. You stand, struggling to your feet. Touching your chest, you quickly flinch away at the pain. You look down, and wince at the nasty gash across your upper torso, a diagonal slash from the bottom of one peck to the top of the other. There was that ringing again. The dust and smoke are nearly choking you and you let out a strained cough. The ringing came again, but clearer. It wasn’t ringing. It was a scream. You cock your head to the right, where the sound had originated from, and your blood runs cold. There stood a man, tall enough to touch the sky, dressed in a red cloak. You try to move, but you legs don’t cooperate, and you fall back onto your behind. The man grinned widely...unnaturally widely. It was as if his face expanded just to fit the smile upon his face. That maliciously wide, hideously chaotic, smile.

He opened his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is faint knocking, soft and distant. What? He approached you, still grinning that mad man’s grin. You hold an arm up to defend yourself, but you know its useless. He goes to say something, but its just knocking again. He falls on you, his body melting to liquid, covering you, drowning you.

Everything blurs, burns and aches. Time itself slurs together and you are drifting downward, down into the abyss. You can’t breathe. You can’t breath. You sit up in bed, eyes wide. You groan, stretching your limbs. In the other room you could hear your uncle snoring. You gulp, mouth dry and palms clammy. You weren’t drowning in an infinite abyss, you were awake, and very much alive in your own bedroom.

It was modest, with only a desk and an armoire. The desk, littered with books, papers, and pens. A few papers had fallen, where they now rested on the floor. The armoire was stuffed to the brim, a few of the un-closed drawers revealing that they too were stuffed with books. You probably owned more books than outfits, which isn’t saying a lot. You shake your head, the vestiges of your dream still leaking cobwebs that sapped your focus. You had been studying late into the night again a self avowed punishment for messing up on the arcanes section of the written exam you had just taken, but you don’t recall getting into bed. Odd.

The thumping came louder this time, less cordial, more annoyed. You check the old clock on the wall. Hour hand not even past seven. Who could even be knocking on the door this early? With another groan, you get out of bed, looking yourself over in the mirror. You were wearing what you had on before you fell asleep at the desk, a ratty old t-shirt and jeans. Eh, good enough for you, at least you weren’t in your underwear.

You stumble out into the hall, legs stiff with that early morning atrophy you knew signaled a decent night of sleep. The house was quiet, aside from the increasingly rapt knocks from your door. It was a quaint little ditty, two stories with quite as many bedrooms. It was your uncle’s home, and you lived here with him. Why you didn’t live with your parents was beyond your understanding, but you had a few ideas. The way your uncle seemed hesitant to talk about them meant they were dead. You had come to grips with it a while ago, to your uncle’s dismay.

It was…whatever to you. They probably loved you, and that was all that mattered. You were too focused on your studies to think about that kind of trite nonsense anyway. Stiffing it down the stairs, you manage to open the door before whoever was knocking put their hand through the stained brown mahogany.

The cold air of winter hit you like a middle school bully, icy talons plunging themselves into your lungs. You grimace, maybe you should have grabbed a coat. No matter, there were more important things on hand, like the two cloaked figures standing on your porch. Given the muzzle sticking out of one’s hood it was an anthro, and a male, given how large his shoulders were. The other was most likely a female, she was shorter than you, and her shoulders didn’t touch the sides of her black cloak. Both had a matching four pointed star on the chest; it was the logo of King’s Academy.

The taller one made a motion with his hand, extending it in greeting. You take it.

“May we come in? It’s terribly cold out today.”

You take his hand in greeting and nod, stepping aside. They both enter, and you note how smoothly they walk, they almost glide through the door frame one at a time. The female doesn’t say anything but she nods at you. Closing the door behind you, you lock it, shutting out the cold biting air outside, and follow the two cloaked figures into the living room.

You motion for them to sit, and they do, pulling off their hoods. You had guessed right, one was a canine of some sort, most likely a wolf, given the grey fur, and the other a human female with sandy blond hair. You elect to stand, leaning on the back of the largest chair in the room, mainly to hide your nervously tapping foot. The wolf gestures at the desolate and cold fireplace with a hand.

“May I?”

You nod, and he extends his hand, muttering something under his breath. The incantation. Sparks danced on the tips of his fingers, little flames doing hopscotch, before they jumped together just above his palm, catching alight into an intimidatingly minuscule fireball. That, he threw into the fireplace, which burst into flames, a crimson lotus of heat.

You watched every second of it enrapturing you in its marvelous mundanity. Flames, jumping to life from nothing, just to light a fire to keep you warm. Was a miracle like that not begging to be studied? To be analyzed within an inch of its arcane life? Would it not be unfair of you to learn everything about magic, to unlock its mysteries? You nod slightly. Yes. It would.

The male’s steely grey eyes lock with yours and you feel your breath leave for a moment. Was this a test of some sort? You knew they were with King’s Academy, their robes had signaled as much. They couldn’t be here to give you your written exam results, you had just taken that. Your face remains neutral, but on the inside your heart is doing flip-flops, and you’re doing your best not to vomit. Social settings weren’t exactly your forte.

“Well..” The female begins, brushing a strand of hair out the way before scratching her neck. “I assume you know why we’re here.”

You gulp, you didn’t exactly know, in all honesty. Hopefully this was a welcoming party and not them letting you down in person. Had your arcanes section been that bad? You knew them now! Would they let you retake it? You mind was whirling like a storm, and your anxiety rose, along with the bile in your throat. You swallow again, forcing it down again, and open your mouth to speak.

“I-I do believe that you are here regarding my entrance exam, however I hope it is on a good note rather than a bad one.” God be damned if you failed to enter, the monetary cost just to apply had wiped out your savings. If they made you pay again, you wouldn’t be able to afford it. Applying to the best magical institution in New Carolina wasn’t exactly cheap. Your financial musings were interrupted by the wolf clearing his throat.

“No need to be worried, this is just a regular visit, we do this to check up on the students before we bring them in.” He produced a duffel bag from…somewhere along with a brochure. You leaned forward, interested. Hammer space spell. A highly coveted, highly protected spell, it allowed one to store objects of need in a small pocket of space-time, accessible only to that user. Best place to keep your wallet, really. You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to impress you, show him what he can learn if he comes to King’s Academy. Cunning wolf, but you would play his game.

“So…” You say, picking up the brochure. “What did I score on my exam?”

The wolf snorts, amused.

“Ever anxious to know your grades, hmm?”

“You have no idea.”

“Don’t worry about it, the fact that you even got that test means you’re in.” The female said, as flatly as the brochure on the coffee table.

What?

You had to take a second to process that. You were…in?

“What was the point of that ‘entrance exam’ then?” You ask accusingly. You had heard that the academy liked to mess with their student body, keep them on their toes. You narrow your eyes. The wolf holds his hand (paws?) up in self defense.

“Hey, that was just a benchmark, for the eggheads up in Avalon Tower, they love that sort of shit, analytics up there, yea?” He accents his statement like a question, probably hoping to illicit a response of sympathy from you. ‘I’m not responsible for this’ kinda deal. Your face twitches but you relent, annoyed at his disarming charm.

“Fine, but I still don’t know why you’re here.”

“We’re here to-”

“HEY! What’s going on down here?!” You and the cast of cloaked spell-slingers jumped at the booming voice at the top of the stairs. Your uncle wasn’t a morning person. That you knew well.

“It’s just me and two people from the Academy! You can go back to bed!” You call up, hoping he won’t come down and make a fool of you.

“No,” the female says, “It’ll be easier if you come downstairs for this.” You give her a quizzical look.

“What is ‘this’?” You ask, getting annoyed at their word games. You didn’t apply to King’s Academy and take that exam for word games. The wolf gives you a guilty look.

“Well, since you’ve techinally been enrolled in the upcoming semester, you have to leave…Today.”

Your lip curls into a snarl, but you reign in the spike of annoyance at this new found information. You hated surprises. Your uncle had learned not to spring things on you early on.

“...What?” Was all you said, a barely contained hiss. The wolf’s ears fold back, and the female visibly cringes.

“I-we..”

“Don’t say another word.” You say, grabbing the bag and stomping up the stairs, past your bewildered uncle. You toss the duffel onto your bed, and begin stuffing clothes into it. Underwear, shirts, your two pairs of jeans, all get haphazardly tossed into the bag’s awaiting maw. Done packing you grab a few pens off your desk and stuff them into your pocket. Better safe than sorry, you guessed. Your uncle is downstairs with the 2 cloaked instructors, making small talk. They must have given him the four one one.

“I’m ready.” You announce, far to mechanically for something of this occasion. You were going to King’s Academy, for Gods’ sake. Why didn’t you feel anything more than a twinge of excitement? You shake your head, you don’t care, what’s happening’s happening. Your uncle is nursing a cup of coffee, and you realize that you didn’t offer them anything to drink. Poor hosting. Hmph. They’re wizards, if they wanted something, they could congjour it up themselves. Your uncle stand, his knees stiff.

“You sure about this?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m certain that I’ve got everything under control.” You say.

You had no idea how terribly wrong you were.


	2. Seven Crowns

 

The transition was faster than you had thought possible. The two instructors, (you still didn’t know their names) had shipped your happy behind out of your house, after an emotionless goodbye to your uncle, and plunked you in a seat on a train, where you were now watching the idyllic landscape of the midwest empire slide past from the window. You would have felt a twinge of sorrow for leaving, had you not already waved the hamlet you called home goodbye. You sigh, and tear your eyes from the window, and flip open the brochure, the fifth time in fifteen minutes. Like all things related to that school, it was black, with golden print. The logo, that ever innocent four pointed star was the only thing printed on the front side, with all the information kept safe within the folded pages.

‘Welcome to King’s Academy, the most prostegious source of magical knowledge! You are most likely no longer a novice to magic, or its uses, but this institution will bolster your already highly talented magical abilities! Please be sure to keep this brochure on hand, as it its your student guide to the school, containing all the information you will need to survive in our gilded halls. The rest of the brochure was just basic information. Breakfast as seven, lunch at twelve, dinner at six thirty, class schedules would be established at the first meeting. Dorm meetings, blah blah blah. Whatever. You toss the brochure back onto the table and resume staring out the window.

You remained like this for quite some time, ignoring the looks of the other students that happened to be on the train, electing to listen in on their chatter and pick up what you could glean. You hold your hand under the table and mutter the incantation. A listening spell, one of the most useful for information gathering, and train it on two people who’s four pointed star emblazoned bags marked as freshman, or at least, students.  
“-id you hear? The Nash twins are coming and they’re gonna be in __our__ class!” One student, a female cat anthro, said. Her chatter-mate, a smaller black dog anthro, snorted.

“Yeah, they’re here to wipe the floor with us. They’ve been recruited by almost every school in the country, why they’d choose KA above the rest of them is beyond me.”

You narrow your eyes. You hadn’t hear much about the Nash twins, but you knew who they were. Twins, a male and a female, both highly promoted by their father and highly sought after. King’s Academy was no saftey net school, but you were certain that they were recruited by better schools farther east. The reason you had chosen King’s Academy was that it was closest only an hour by train, and well, the cheapest to attend. Student loans, ya?

The dog speaks up again.

“What surprises me is the Bledsoe girl, she’s already being looked at by Praetorian scouts, at least that’s if the tabloids were to be believed.” At the word ‘praetorian’, your ears perk, well they would have if you were a dog, like the speaker. The Praetors were a secretive group, highly exclusive and well known, a group of wizards and witches that were given power of which placed them in the highest echelon of society, even above nobility and some royalty. You glowered. So there was a praetor recruit here, in your class. Just your luck. The Nash twins and that praetor recruit. What a class. Your face snaps into a wild grin at the thought of you beating them in academia and in combat. You were determined to be the next praetor selected from the ranks of King’s Academy.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the door to the train car slid open with a clack, and the two instructors walked through, sealing the door behind them. You dispelled the listening spell, and the magic circle floating above your hand shattered with a flash of light. The female human gave you a look of interest, which you ignored. She probably had detected the spell. You want to look away but the wolf appears ready to begin speaking, and was clearing his throat.  

“Hello, freshman!” He began. “If you are a cool dude you probably know me, and if you don’t your probably a loser, so I’ll do introductions.”

A student sitting in front of you- you couldn’t see what species they were, stuck their hand in the air.

“But Professor Wylander, half the country doesn’t know you.”

“Well, that’s 26 million registered losers.” He says. “Regardless, I am Professor Jacob Wylander, yes __the__  Wylander, and I teach arcanes. My partner here is Professor Sylvia Johnson.”

“I am a Professor from the divinations department, so please, if you need help with something, come talk to me.” She days, winking.

“Well! With that out of the way, we can get to the fun part.” Wylander says, waving his hand in front of him, causing the air to crackle and spark. “Please check your bags.” he continues.

You look down, and unzip your bag, shuffling though your bag, you hand coming into contact with something you didn’t remember putting in there. A metal object. Black, like the night, it was a bracelet, like the cuff of a shackle. There wasn’t much to it, the bracelet was simply a glossy black, studded with a few gems. Not your personal taste in jewelry, but it was rather expensive looking.

“So! These are Comuniclets, names a beta, and so are these, don’t complain.” Wylander said, pulling up his sleeve to show his own wrist, which had the bracelet snugly fit. “Just slip it on and press your thumb on this gem right here, see?” He said, pointing to the largest gem on the device. You do so, and wince when you feel something sharp bite into your thumb, and when you pull it away, some blood rolls down from a small incision right on the pad of your thumb. You glower, excellent, a new wound to heal. The bracelet thrummed to life, golden lines making different patterns on the glossy black surface. Now this was something you could rock with. The bracelet shifted, shrinking down on your arm and latching softly just below your wrist. You still had full range of motion. Everything is dark all of a sudden. You contain a yelp of fear as you realized that your vision has gone dark, and you hear some shrieks and screams of panic from other occupants in the car. With a flash, your vision is back, but a little different. In the bottom left hand corner is your heart rate, and temperature, along with the temperature of the room you’re currently in.

“What the FUCK is this?” You hear someone shout.

“Alright, alright, simmer down kiddos.” Prof. Wylander says. “Its just the Comuniclet booting up. There are a few neato features, so just dink around with it for a while before we get there, because...” he pauses, checking his watch. “15 minutes till we hit the school, and your new lives begin.” He gives off a devilish grin. “It will probably be hell for a few of you, but hey, that’s how it goes.”

You frown at this new development. They probably had some way to track your movements through this thing. The thought of being watched constantly annoyed you. The idea that they could probably listen in on your conversations too was something you didn’t like. You tap into the magic floating around you, and a complex magical circle spawns above your right hand. A scanning spell, one of your favorites to use, it checked for any and all sorts of gimmicks and tom-foolery that people placed on objects. Your frown deepens when you realize that there are multiple warding spells weaved into the metal of the bracelet. From the complexity of them, you doubt you would be able to crack them in any amount of time, and even if you did, you might set off an alarm of some sort within the device. You wave off the spell, and fold your arms, annoyed that you had been tricked into giving up some privacy.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, and you ended up simply staring up at the castle like building that was approaching from the distance. High tower spiraled above the main building, and they all seemed to be connected with bridges, creating a large almost box like shape over the castle. The entire thing was surrounded by a city. You expected to plow straight through the outside ruins, but surprisingly, the train slowed down, and stopped right on the outskirts of the city. One student spoke up.

“...Um, why are we stopping out here? Is there a malfunction?” Wylander gave them a cheeky look.

“Because this is your stop!” At the confused faces, his smile widened. “Cmon people, get up out of your seats, and move into the car ahead, we have some explaining to do.

You remain in your seat electing to let the throng of people in the train car go ahead of you. The female instructor regards you with a faint smile, as if she knows something you didn’t. You disliked when people did that to you. Letting the last person go through the door, you get up and follow, and observe the room from the back. On a cart that lay on the side of the mostly empty car, were several objects, weapons, to be exact. Emboldened, you move forward and grab the first one you can a pistol. Etched into its side were runic patterns, its silvery surface almost glittering with with arcane lattice. It was a mage pistol, a gun that fired spells. Just think of the spell, pull the trigger, and blam, spell fired. It helped give civvies that edge they needed in home defense against marauders and other nare-do-wells. It was also use-full for getting a mage out of a sticky situation. You look up at Wylander, who is already setting you with his smug gaze.

“Ah, I see you’re already accustomed to these weapons, no?” You shake your head.

“Uncle was a blacksmith, he didn’t like firearms.” You explain. “Didn’t have one around the house, we were more of a swords household.”

“Ah,” He says, nonchalantly. “Anyway, if you look at your commiclet, you’ll see a map, and on that map, there are several marked locations.” He motions to his wrist, where his bracelet sits.

You do so, and are met with, as Wylander said, a map of the current local. There you were, marked against the black of the map and the white of the buildings as a green dot. Flicking the map, you let it glide and you see one of the starred locations, in red amongst the black and white lines.

“What is this? Some kind of game?” You mutter under your breath. Unfortunately, Wylander heard you, his ear flicking in your direction.

“Kinda,” he begins picking up and examining one of the pistols. “Its a game, except the loser gets shamed for their entire schooling career. Pretty high stakes if you ask me.” He said with a grin.

You frown, wondering what on earth this mangy mutt could possibly be talking about. As if he was reading your thoughts, his devilishly annoying grin widens.

“You’ve got an hour, starting in 2 minutes, to get to the center of the city, where the school main building is. As long as you make it in the allotted time, you made it, you’re safe from elimination. But, those who are looking for extra credit, go and grab one of those flags from around the city. It won’t be easy, because they’re going to be guarded by some of our golems, and we have golems wandering the streets. They won’t kill ya, but they’ll make your life a living hell if you get stuck fighting them. Well, I’ve taken enough time explaining stuff, any questions?” A lot of hands raise. “I don’t give a shit. Load up, don’t kill each other, and most importantly, have fun!”

There was a mad scramble for the table, but there were enough weapons for everyone. Some small stick like objects you recognized as the handle of mage swords, weapons that used your mana to create a blade, two of those, you grabbed, as well as a pistol. A door on the side of the car opened, and thoroughly satisfied with you weapon selection, you leap out of the door, and into the ruins outside.

 

 

\--Time Elapsed: 15 Minutes

 

You were power. A golem fell, a sizzling hole through its crystal eye. You were magic unleashed. A student fled in fear, you smell their desperation in the air. You were Ivan Nash. And you hated this silly game they had you on. You walk through the ruins of the dirty, decrepit, city, eyes scanning for another attacker. You see a glint in a smashed in window, a golem’s eye. Without hesitation you aim your hand and the building is reduced to rubble. You smile. Your new spell, /Starslinger/ was working perfectly. Twenty golden stars floated above you and around you, your personal nebula. You would have made more, but you needed to save mana for your ace spell, but you didn’t think you truly needed it, you thought. The golems, in a word, were pathetic, and no one here seemed to want to challenge you. Your thoughts suddenly shifted, there was an attacker approaching. Ten stars to blade formation, the other ten remain in aura formation. CLANG! The blades of the attacker met yours, and you grin at the new arrival. A cat boy. You were a lynx, of course, but they were a simple house cat. Not worthy of royalty of prestige. They swipe at you, but you bat away their attack, and grab their throat with your free hand. You sweep their legs out from under them, and land on top of them, slamming them to the ground by their throat. For added measure, you plunge your blade into their palm, pinning them to the ground by their hand. They scream out in pain, something that disgusts and annoys you.

You snarl in their face and reaching back the hand that’s on their throat, you bring it down on their head, cold cocking them. They slump over, unconscious. Pathetic, another loser attempting to slow you down. You channel a little magic, and send up a help flare. The professors would find him. Your blade separates back into the blade-motes and float back into the defensive aura formation. This was power. This was The Nash Legacy.

 Your sister was making short work of the rest of city, she had likely claimed one of the treasures and was on her way to the castle. You check your bracelet. Only seventeen minutes had passed; it was a shame your little trial run with the spell slinger had to come to an end so soon. You were closing in on one of the treasures, and you would soon be headed to the castle. Hmm, you had an idea. No one ever said you couldn’t take your time, did they? Have some fun, shake things up? You grin. Now this was starting to be fun. You pick up the pace, almost marching towards the plaza where the map said the treasure was located. Three….two…one…here it was!

The Plaza was empty, no chairs or anything, it looked like an open area for a fight. In the center was a crown, simple and elegant, black with gold trim, you were beginning to fall for the cliche motif. Some movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you leap to the side, narrowly avoiding some object smashing the ground where you stood mere seconds ago.

Rising from the crater that was almost you, a kangaroo anthro stood tall. She gave you a maliciously kind grin.

“Say…you one of those Nash kids? Boy I’m lucky I got you. I’ve had to fight nothing but punks and greenhorns. What say we duke it out for this here crown?” She said, pointing at your chest. You give a grin yourself.

Someone eager to challenge you? Confident in their skills enough to talk down to you? Your grin turns maniacal. Maybe this wasn’t going to be an ordeal of boredom, after all.

 

\--Elapsed Time: 30 Minutes

You had been making great time when the first skyscraper fell. You’d been taking a break, getting out of the now falling snow and into the protection of the long looted and smashed convenience store when you saw it. There was a crack like thunder, making you look up. The tower shattered like glass in some sections, and blew out like someone had detonated a plastic explosive from others. The entire thing tilted, leaning from an entire chunk blown out at its base. The building, pitched forward, and fell, blanketing the area in dust. You climb to the roof of the store to get a better view of the action. Seeing that you couldn’t make out anymore than vague flashes of light, you cast an Eagle-Eye spell to assist you.

The first thing you noticed was the kangaroo. Stark white hair and beige fur, she stood against a lynx anthro. The lynx himself looked rather…out of place. Wearing a royal blue shirt and pants, along with a white cloak that bore the blue lotus. The Praetorian’s sigil! It marked you as a future prospect of the Praetorian legions. How he had acquired one, was something that made you narrow your eyes. That could be none other than one of the lynx twins, but you couldn’t tell their gender from this far out. You caught a brief glimpse of both of them, standing still. On the ruins of the collapsed building. The appeared to be chatting, wide grins on each of their faces. That was a fight you’d rather not fall into the crossfire of.

Checking your map, you realize that there were only a few treasures left. All the others were moving, albiet slowly. It appeared that most in your area had been snatched. This was not good. You either had to make a mad dash for the next to last one, in the big arena area across town, or try and fight someone for theirs. You had a decision to make, and quickly. One of the treasures was approaching you, and fast.

‘Let’s make this fun.’ You thought.

You pull the pistol out of its holster and mutter the incantation for a binding spell, ducking down under the lip of the roof. You check your map again, and line up a shot against the driving snow. The figure is sprinting in the street, probably attempting to get to the caste before someone stronger than them takes their treasure. That person was you. You’re about to pull trigger when they stop suddenly, making your shot bounce in front of them, the chains that sprouted from the end of your pistol bouncing harmlessly on the street. You holster the pistol, glaring down at the carrier of the treasure. There it was, on their head, a crown of gold and black coloration. Your target. The wearer grinned, happy that they had tricked you. Your blood boiled. People looking down on you…disrespectful. You leap off the building, drawing your mana-blades. You land as you slash, trying to cleave the crown from their fucking head. They duck away, and draw their own blade. One, CLASH, two your blades met theirs.

They were a dog, the same one from the train car earlier. They sprang back, a crimson magic circle appearing in front of their mouth. Fire! You roll to the left as a pillar of flame spawns to life where you were standing. You threw up a barrier in the nick of time to catch another blast of fire, this one nearly liquefying the ground around you. You let the barrier down and throw one on your blades like a spear toward the source of the flame. It caught them in the shoulder, the dog letting out a howl of pain. The blade winked out of existence without your mana to power it, the handle clattering to the ground. The dog backed up, again, readying another spell, but this time, you knew why. They weren’t good at close combat, and would be toast if you got in close. This was why they were so confident when you’d missed that first shot. The next shot wouldn’t be a miss. You rush forward, ducking under the barage of fire, and landing a solid uppercut into the dog’s solar plexus. They stumble back, and you drop your blade, jumping into a grapple with the with the the canine. You roll around in the snow, both of you fighting for the top of the pile. With some effort you manage to get on top and wrestled the crown off the dog’s head. You land a good punch on his nose, blood spraying your face. They whimpered, and when you got off them, they stayed down. Tiredly, an with ragged breaths, you grab your hard won crown.

 

\--Time Elapsed: 45 Minutes, 15 minutes remain.

You were Ivan Nash. You were born the son of Keillor Nash and Savada Nash, both praetorians. Both of their parents were praetorians, and both of their parents. You were born to become a fighting machine, bred to raze cities in the name of the Praetorian guard. You were the strongest wizard on the face of the planet.

And you were having fun.

The kangaroo girl had proven to be an excellent combatant. You had bee fighting for a whole thirty minutes and both of you were nearing your limits, but you just wanted to keep going. Your face hurt, from you grinning the entire time. She was frentic, smashing through your defenses with solid punches and kicks. FOr your part, you had done your best to avoid getting walloped while you both danced, one with blade, and one with claw. You loved every second of it. In your battle she had wounded you thrice, and you her an innumerable amount of times. Her fur was burnt and charred in some places, and she bore many wounds that would stop a lesser being. But she was no lesser being. And you liked that. But alas, time was ticking, and all good things must come to and end.

You muttered the incantation aloud, throwing up an iron wall barrier to keep out the meddling marsupial. As you chanted, you could hear her pounding on the barrier, it wouldn’t hold against her for long. Your Star Slinger Spell winked out, and you concentrated on casting your new spell, your ace in your sleeve, or however those degenerate gamblers say it. /Splash King/ you called it. It was the perfect spell, designed by the perfect being. You of course. You didn’t the chance to finish the spell, however, as the increasingly intimidating thuds of fists on steel was replaced by silence, and the polite knocks. Hesitantly, you open the barrier, and come face to face with another lynx. Dressed torn jeans and a flannel shirt, she looked as if she was going shopping at the mall back home, rather than in a combat zone. On one wrist was the standard black and gold communiclet of King’s Academy, and on the other, the white and blue bracelet marked with a blue lotus, the praetorian’s logo. Your sister, Ibacca.

“Dear brother, please explain to me why you felt it nessesary to destroy half the city in your little brawl with this kangaroo girl?” She asked, her annoyed tone mismatched with the dazzling smile on her face. You waved the question off with a shrug.

“It matters not, we were having fun.” Ibacca rolled her eyes, whatever. I got this trinket for you, I nabbed it from the arena when you were ‘having fun with little miss hoppity-hop over here. Suddenly remembering his opponent, you looked around your sister at the marsupial. She looked….dazed, standing in place like a statue with her eyes glazed like emerald donuts.

“What did you do to her?” You ask, concerned your sister, the ever powerful illusionist, had made your only worthy opponent comatose.

“Oh, don’t worry, she’s only in my /Dazzling Dimension/, she’ll wake up in five minutes.” Ibacca said, grinning. “That means we have about sixty seconds to run before she gains on us, and beats you to a pulp.”

“As IF! I was about to win.” You say with a huff Ibacca only snickers.

“Oh please, you were about to unleash /Splash King/ she had you in a corner and you know it.” Your face twitches, but you decide to drop the subject. Segueing, you ask,

“What about that trinket, the one that you mentioned earlier?” Ibacca’s eyes light up at that, and she hands you a crown, black and gold, the one you were fighting for.

“I even nicked this other one off some plebeian anthro hiding in a grocery store.” she says, pulling another out of her hammer space. You give her a flat look

“So you were going to keep two for yourself, you avaricious girl?”

“Eh, they’re nice, and they’d totally go with my spring outfits.” You roll your eyes at that.

“Give that one to the kangaroo girl, she deserves it for being such a worthy challenge to me.” Ibacca does as you say, placing the crown upon her head.

“Wake her up too, we don’t want some plebeian taking it from her.”

A quick smack later, and the kangaroo was shaking her head, and the twins were nowhere in sight.

 

 

 

\-- Elapsed time: 55 minutes.

 

You shiver as the snow falls, your light jacket doing nothing to protect you from the cold of winter. The crown you wore rested heavily on your head, and you wondered who was watching you as you jogged through the city proper. The thunderous booms from deep within the city had quieted, and the blanketing snow stifled the ambient noise to an eerie silence. You swallow, checking your map again, anxiety rising as you could see the other held crowns were fast approaching. You were fairly certain that someone had set a trap ahead of you, but your scuffle with the dog anthro had pushed you back a fair ways. There was only one option if you wanted to make it to the school on time. And you fucking legged it. Hand on holster and blade in hand, you spent your time checking surroundings, and checking corners as fast as you possibly could. You check your map again. The other crowns are right on your heals, and you can begin to hear the sounds of spells being cast as they battled it out behind you. You, as best you could put your head down and kept running. You didn’t know what sort of prize there was for winning, but you were certainly not going to find out what losing meant. You were so busy worrying that you didn’t notice the mine-spell until it was too late, the bomb clicking as your foot mashed down on it. You barely had time to throw up a shield between you and the mine before it detonated, sending you sprawling into a snowdrift. The world spun, your vision swimming in and out, and your head reeled. You check your brow, pleased that your crown hadn’t come flying off in the explosion.

 ‘Wasn’t that lethal force?’ You thought as the world continued to carousel around you. With no small effort you haul yourself to your feet, and you force yourself to keep running. Even though your head was spinning, you checked your map, zooming in on yourself as far as you could. The nearest crown was 40 meters away, and closing in fast. Explosions, the whistle of spells and the whoosh of flames sounded behind you. The battle was close, and if you didn’t move fast enough, it was going to catch up to you. You needed to move. Move DAMNIT! Your ankle screamed in protest every step; you had likely twisted it in the landing from the explosion. You pressed on, ignoring the pain. The gates were right there! You could see them in the distance, and you turned on the heat, full on sprinting towards safety. Your heart pounded in your ears, and the icy cold was working your lungs to death, you chest felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of tiny knives. You were almost there, just a few more steps…! Keep going! You were just outside the gate, and with explosions at your back and pain shooting up and down your leg, you made it. Or…you would have, if you hadn’t tripped going into the gate, where you fell face first into the threshold of King’s Academy.


	3. Low Stakes

Act 1, Chapter 2: Low Stakes

Dirt in your face. That’s what you got for all your effort. Well, that and the crown, which sat proudly on your head as if it wasn’t just I the middle of a warzone five minutes ago. You wanted nothing more than to sit down, and maybe have a little tea, but the faculty had other ideas. The robed staff herded you into the school like magically talented cattle, and you were forced to gimp your way through the vaulted halls of the aft castle. The more you limped the more you wondered if you had gotten the crown for nothing. That was until a tall wolf anthro flagged you down. You were lead away from the safety of the main herd and dragged down another hall entirely. Down the main hall you went, until you came to a stop at a wide double door, each flanked by a lion statue wearing the same crown you had upon your head.   
The wolf motioned you forward, and you hobble over. There’ a grating, grinding sound as the two statues turned their heads to regard you. You squirm in place nervously as they stare you down, one on each side. The one on the right nods slightly and the doors between them open up, revealing a staircase covered in a plush red carpet. You look back at the wolf, who as remained in place, and they give you a simple ‘well go on’ gesture with their hand. You didn’t really want to, but you ascended the stairs, the door closing behind you. Wait, did it just lock? You turn back, but its too late, the door is sealed. Whatever is in here, you’re trapped in with. The staircase rose into a wide open room, with a cluttered table being in the center. Seven, at least seven by your count, bags rested on the table, along with an assortment of other items.   
On one side of the room there was a fireplace, with four plush chairs in a loos semi circle around it. The entire place was coated in the amber glow of the fire. THe burgandy carpet underneath your feet was thick, almost impossibly so, and your footsteps were muffled, even with your boots on. The more interesting thing in the room, rather than the objects, were the people. Six others were already here, and when you entered, they were either ignorant of you or chose to ignore you. By the fire sat a saber tooth cat, given the glint of her teeth in the flames, and a seal girl. Side by side, they held a conversation in hushed whispers. The saber toothed cat kept looking over her shoulder as if anyone was paying them any attention. Sitting at the head of the table was a lynx, male, his short hair and glower made that very apparent. He was holding a heated argument with what to be a female version of him, his face seemed to twitch around a scar that ran over his face, across his right eye. The female he was arguing held a smug smile, which irked you slightly. You sincerely disliked that type of person, something about that personality trait bothered you to no end. Both wore the mark of the praetorian. The Nash twins. You swallow. If they were here, who else was waiting in the wings? The fifth and sixth were at the table, and seemingly ignoring each other. One was a female kangaroo anthro, who had elected to spend her time glaring at the Nash twins, and a male spider anthro, who was asleep with his feet kicked up on the table. Everyone here had won a crown. That means everyone here was on the same level or at least as competitive as the Nashes. You were just a boy from the sticks. You had no business being here, and you intended to make sure they didn’t know until you did have some business here, challenging them at the throne. The Nash at the head of the table’s ear flicked when you reached your bag, and absentmindedly unzipped it, looking about the contents that you already knew were there.   
“Ah!” He said, perking up. “It appears everyone has come around. I’m tired, so let’s get this little ice breaker underway shall we.” You took your seat across from the female lynx, placing you bag under your chair so you could see. Everyone else gathered at their own pace, the last person to be attending was the spider, who was awoken when Ivan slapped the table with his palm.   
“Huh? Wuzzat?” he muttered in confusion. Ivan gave him a glare.  
“Well, eight-legger, we are here to introduce ourselves to the group.” You groan, along with a few others.   
“Groan all you want, but we are gonna be doing this.” Ivan said, standing.  
“If you don’t already somehow know, I’m Ivan Nash…and my specialty is combative magic.” He motioned to his sister, who stood up.  
“I am Ibacca Nash, and my specialty is illusions. It is a pleasure to meet you all.” Her eyelids were droopy, half lidded, giving her a constantly smug expression. Perhaps, she had some form of condition?  
The person on her left, the kangaroo anthro, opens her mouth to speak.   
“Cleopatra Bledsoe, but you can call me Cleo.My speciality is combative magic as well, and I intend to be a praetorian.” She sits, huffing. “Next.”   
The spider anthro doesn’t skip a beat, despite his napping earlier.   
“Yo, I’m Voight.” he says, grinning. “Speciality…poisons and acids…I guess, also, don’t uh, touch the spines on my back, they’re venomous.” When he sat back down, Ibacca scooted her seat away from him, ever so slightly. The next person, the seal, elected to remain seated. It was the seal anthro, with pretty blonde hair that fell in curly waves around her face.  
“Celeste…” She paused, quirking an eyebrow at the sabertooth. “I’m good at ice magic.”The cat-woman from before stood up, her face alight with anxiety. With some hesitation and a shifty glance around, she bowed so deeply it seemed she might fall over.  
“I-I’m Kala, I’m majoring in psyonics and I’m very good at divinations!” she nearly shouted. You all simply stared at her in the shocked silence, and she stood there, with an embarrassed look on her face. About thirty seconds of awkward staring commenced before she sat down, looking as if she was going to cry. You watch as Celeste leans over, and pats her on the back, whispering something in her ear. You decided to take the heat off her. You decide to take the heat off her, and stand up to introduce yourself.   
“I’m Anson Lee, and my speciality is…” You stop, thinking. “I…don’t really know, honestly.” Your face twitches, and you sit down, thoroughly assuming the stares of the rest of the group. Your face burns, but you smile, breathing out a sigh.   
“Well! Now, that we have settled introductions, I think it would be wise if we settled into our rooms for now, and reconvened at a later time.” He said, rising from the table. Everyone follows, desperate to get away from the miasma of awkwardness that the introductions had left.  
“Ah, that’s going to be a problem. You’ve got stuff to do.” Came a voice from the door. As if you all were geese chasing a piece of thrown bread, you simultaneously turn you heads. Standing there was a pronghorn man. He cut a sharper line in the wall than the doorf rame that surrounded him, his slender and tall form sporting an expensive and finely tailored suit.  
“I see you’ve all gotten acquainted, and I shall make mine. I am Professor Irons, and I will be your combat instructor. Please, follow me.” 

 

Plink-P-plink! The clatter of mana cubes sounded in your ear as you stood in the assessment room. Truth be told, it was less of a room and more of an arena. The expansive, circular floor was covered in sand and a vaulted glass dome ceiling was high above, through which you could see the cloudy sky.   
“Good, good, Ibacca, full marks. Seventy five-seventy-five.” Professor Irons said. You stomach knotted. Even though you weren’t in any danger, you could feel droplets of anxious sweat creep down your face and neck. This was the next test. Simple, but at the same time, one of the basic benchmark mana tests. Make some cubes. It was as easy as that. It tested for two of three arcane numbers. First was mana velocity, or how fast you can summon, channel, and mold mana into a spell. The second was mana endurance, which is a measured in the amount of ten cubic inch squares you could make before their size started deviating. Once the size of the spell starts to deviate, it is a sign of lack of control, and thus, the end of your stamina.  
Ibacca’s double seventy five proved she was of praetorian rank, or at least had the raw talent of one. Ivan had scored a double ninety, popping off cubes at a rate that your eyes could barely follow. It was only natural, given their lineage. Ivan had looked like a smug prick when his score got rattled off, the face of someone who knew he was superior. The professor went down the line, scoring each student. Cleo, a fifty-ninety. Celeste, double sixty-nines. Voight had gotten a double fifty, which he seemed perfectly fine with. Kala looked like she was going to faint when she got her score back; a thirty-fifty. And there were you, at the bottom, with your measly twenty-twenty. Irons didn’t even blink when he read your score, but the rest of the class felt it felt it prudent to express their reactions.  
Ivan looked even more smug than he already was, as if he was vindicated by your poor performance. Ibacca looked offended, as if Professor Irons had called you a skinnigger, or some other slur. Cleo wasn’t really paying attention, as she was glaring at Ivan again. Celeste was quietly talking to Kala, who was looking like she was gonna melt down from embarrassment. Voight, at least was honest.  
“Holy shit, dude you suck!” He said between laughs.  
“At least he knows he sucks, therefore he can improve.” Came a voice. Irons grinned.   
“Headmaster Chalice, how wonderful for you to come to meet the new Crowns.” He said. The new arrival was a wiry man, cloaked in black, his hands swathed in gold rings. A gruff grey beard hung from his face, and his magenta eyes sparked mischievously. “I was planning on sending them to you, but here you are!” He continued.  
“Indeed, I wanted to stretch my legs. The new Crowns look promising, even Young Master Lee. If you obtained a crown during the initiation test, you deserve to be here, so do not lose heart.” Headmaster Chalice said, looking you straight in the eyes.   
“In fact, I believe that all of you will become great students, and even greater mages. There is a lot of potential here, and I wish to see it fulfilled. Just because you start at the bottom, doesn’t mean you cannot reach the top. And I do hope that our young praetorians in training will be willing to help those who need it.” At that, Ivan looked shocked, and Ibacca smiled widely, her half lidded eyes seeming to pierce yours.   
You felt a little odd, as if the world was spinning for a second, but her smile brought you back into reality. Weird. Perhaps you were more tired than you thought, you had been straining yourself a lot today. You look to the sky, where the sun was now setting. Of course the test had taken a while, Irons had to examine each student one by one, and the Nashes had a LOT of mana to burn.   
“I do apologize for dropping in unannounced, but I just simply had to meet you all. Please, feel free to take the rest of the day off, not that there’s much of it left.” He said, glancing to the sky. “If you need me, just come down to my office, my door is always open.” Then you blink, and hes gone. No POP, or fancy lighting, he simply vanished, as if he was never there in the first place.   
“Teleporting, fancy.” Professor Irons said, stepping into the place, where the robed human once stood. “Welp, you heard the Headmaster, go back to your dorms, get some rest. Tommorow, meet me at room eight oh three, in the west wing.” The pronghorn gave a shooing motion.   
“Now off you go.”


End file.
